


Near Death Experiences in the White March

by captainofthefallen



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst, F/M, Near Death Experiences, always happy endings though, and lots of them, both parts, delicious angst, white march spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthefallen/pseuds/captainofthefallen
Summary: There are actually quite a lot of them if you're reckless enough. Draws from both parts. And just to clarify, it's not ALL the near death experiences in the White March, just a few of them.





	1. Keydy

"Keydy's still in there!" 

He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone change direction that quickly. One moment they're walking up toward Renengild's house at a semi-leisurely pace, taking it easy after their battle. But the moment the panicked cry reaches her ears, her head snaps up. She allows for a second of dawning horror, then she's off like a shot from her favorite pistol. He's right behind her. He always is. 

She pauses for a moment to take in the burning house, and that moment is all he needs. He knows that look on her face. That's the look she gets when she's about to do something reckless, but he'll be damned if he just watches her run into a burning building. 

She steels herself and starts to push forward, but he grabs the back of her hood, pulling her back. She stumbles, splutters, and turns around to glare at him. He just gives her a look. 

"Not today, Nineteen," is all he says, and then he pulls out his new shield (she bought it for him from a traveling merchant a few days before they left for the White March and he's never been more grateful for the frost enchantment) and pushes forward into the collapsing house. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It never really occurs to her that running into a burning building is a _bad_ idea. Not when she's the one preparing to do it, anyway. 

Funny how your perspective can do a complete 180 in about three and a half seconds. 

His tug on her hood puts her off balance enough that she can't immediately follow him, and by the time she stumbles forward, shouting, "Edér, _no_!" it's already too late to stop him. 

She grits her teeth. _Fine then. We'll do it the hard way._

But an arm around her middle and a hand on her arm pull her back from the fire a second time. 

"You cannot help him," says Pallegina's voice in her ear. 

She struggles. "Damn it, let me _go_!" she snaps, but her meager cipher's strength is no match for the paladin. 

"He'll be all right," Aloth promises, laying a hand on her shoulder. "He's endured far worse. And besides, he knows his limits." 

She snorts. "Doesn't mean he won't push himself past them anyway." 

A man runs out of the burning building, glancing back over his shoulder as he escapes the flames. 

Edér doesn't follow. 

Cold fear consumes her like a slow-spreading frost. No. _No,_ damn it, not like this. Flickers of memory--her own, this time--flash through her mind. His broad smirk, the first time they met. The way he started calling her Nineteen as a joke, which became a fond nickname, which became... she stops herself. Because she doesn't _know_ it's a term of endearment, and for someone in her position, that kind of hope is a dangerous thing. 

She sees the vulnerable look on his face when he confided in her after Maerwald's death, the desperation when they'd learned his brother fought and died for Waidwen, the hopelessness when she failed to give him the answers he needed. She sees his constant support, the way his voice reaches through her nightmares and her past, the way he takes her hand when she dreams, the way he held her close on the way here (stupid, she scolds herself, he was keeping you warm). All of that in an instant, and it's like her entire insides are twisting into knots because what if he doesn't come out? What if that burning building is the end of him, what if he doesn't come back? 

She stops fighting, slumping hopelessly in Pallegina's arms as she tries to imagine what she'll do without him. 

She'll survive, of course. She has no choice, the way she sees it. Because who the hell else is going to stop the Leaden Key? But all the same... if there's one thing that's going to doom her to madness a hell of a lot sooner... this is it. 

It's been too long. The house is practically about to collapse in on itself, and he's still not there, and _shit, shit, it should have been me, why did he stop me, he--_

A beam shifts across the front of the house and Edér steps out, an unconscious woman slung over his shoulder and his shield warding off the flames. His hair and clothes are singed, he has burns all over his arms, and he's coated in a layer of soot, but he's _alive._ Oh, gods, he's alive, and as he hands the woman off to one of the villagers, Pallegina finally releases her hold, and Mara has to hold herself back from running to him. 

Trembling with relief (those flashes, realizing everything she'd be losing, were not pleasant to say the least), she walks up to him, as normally as she can manage. Satisfied he's at least mostly all right, she punches his arm (being careful to avoid the burns). 

"What the _hell,_ Edér? At least give me some warning next time, huh?" 

He turns his gaze on her, wearing an expression that's half teasing smirk and half... something. She can't quite identify it... or she's afraid to. 

"Back at you, Nineteen," he says quietly. 

"You could've _died._ " She doesn't mean to say it. She promised herself she'd keep her emotions under wraps, try not to let any of them care about her too much, so they'd get hurt less when she lost it or kicked the bucket. But this... after everything, it's too much. She can't pretend this isn't affecting her. So yeah, she says it. And maybe her voice cracks a little, and maybe some of the strain slips through, but right now she almost just watched him die. 

His gaze softens and intensifies in a single moment, and his hand cups her jaw for the briefest of moments. "You _would've_ died," he says, and drops his hand. 

She can't quite meet his eyes. The intensity feels like it's burning her, like maybe her carefully constructed plan is tumbling down all around her, and she's not ready to deal with that. 

Instead she turns her attention to his arms, lifting a hand to lightly ghost over some of the burns. "I'm sorry," she says dumbly, like it was her fault he ran in there, like it was her fault that he took whatever insane risks he did to save those people. 

"Nothin' to be sorry about," he says quietly, his tone a perfect match for the intense gaze she can't bring herself to meet. "They needed help. And I'd do a lot more if it kept you safe." 

She has to squeeze her eyes shut to keep tears back at that. He can't, she repeats to herself over and over. He can't. He can't. I've never given him a reason to. He can't. 

The mantra does nothing to relieve her of the crushing realization that maybe he _does,_ and fuck, that should make her ecstatic, she should be thrilled at the possibility of a future with this man--except she has no future. 

So she turns to where the others are gathered and motions them over, taking a step away from him, maintaining a respectful and professional distance, and they continue on their way. 

She has no future. She holds no illusions about that. And allowing the potential, allowing something to build, only to have it snatched away? That would be crueler than nothing at all.


	2. The Giftbearers (pt.1)

The moment the man vanishes, she's off, heading purposefully for the hole in the frozen pond, already stripping off the heavy bits of her armor. Biting back a curse, Edér follows, ready to pull her back if he needs to. 

She stops though, at the edge of the hole, turning back to face him. Seeing the look on his face, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, still with a smile on her face. 

"Not this time, Edér," she says. 

"But--" he starts to protest, but she just shakes her head more vehemently. 

"You ran into a burning building this morning. No way I'm letting you freeze your ass off now too." 

"But--" he tries again. 

Still shaking her head, she takes two steps away from the edge, reaching for him. Her hand comes to rest on his arm, just above the elbow, and the look on her face can only be described as _fond_. 

"You're always rushing headfirst into whatever danger we come across. Let me take the risk for once." 

"They need you," he blurts out, just barely managing to keep himself from saying _I need you_. 

Her head tilts slightly to one side. "Who?"

"Everyone," he says. "You're a Watcher, you're the one with the link to Thaos, you're the one who can save everyone from the Leaden Key. I'm not--"

Her eyes flash. "If you say you're expendable then gods help me Edér I might actually punch you." 

He deflates slightly, but he puts a hand on her shoulder, just in case she gets any ideas about jumping in there before he can stop her. "I just... don't wanna see you hurt," he admits. 

"You--" She frowns. "It's inevitable," she says at last. "Even if I don't end up like Maerwald, I'll be on the receiving end of a death blow from Thaos. I--" 

Someone clears their throat, and both of them turn to see Aloth watching them with his arms crossed. "Touching as this is," he says, "it's not a concern." 

Mara raises an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"I know a spell," the wizard continues, "that can shield you from the worst of the cold. You'll be able to retrieve the chest without risking your life." 

Relief washes over Edér. "Thanks, Aloth," he says sincerely. 

Mara gives him a sharp look. "I'm still going," she says. 

He sighs. "Long as you promise not to drown." 

She laughs. "Fine, fine. That'd be a crappy way to die anyway." 

Turns out there are a lot of chests down there, and most of them look the same. In the end she just brings up all of them. Aloth and the others start to work on opening them while Edér helps her out of the water and wraps her in his cloak. "Don't want you freezing when that spell wears off," he offers as an explanation. 

She nods, too tired to speak, and starts wringing out her braid. 

She's interrupted, though, by an exclamation from Aloth and an expletive from Iselmyr. 

Chests filled with stones. That's all that was down there. Everyone is at least a little peeved, but Mara is furious. 

"Are you telling me," she snarls with an air of forced calm, "that they preach for people to give up their possessions so they can _take them_ and _sell them_?" 

Aloth pinches his lips together. "So it seems." 

"We done here?" she asks the group at large. No one ventures a contradiction, so she nods firmly. "All right then. We're going back there, and they'd better have some fucking answers or--" She storms off midsentence. 

Aloth raises his eyebrows at Edér. 

"How long's that spell last?" 

"Not long enough to get us back to Stalwart." 

That is all he needs to know. Nodding to Aloth, he turns his back and follows her. 

She's not far. Just out of sight of the others, skidding rocks across one of the frozen ponds. She looks up as he approaches. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

She shrugs. "Wondering." 

He stops a few feet from her, allowing her some distance if she wants it. "What about?"

"If I was any different." 

He frowns. "I don't follow." 

"They use people's faith to steal from them," she said. "I was a member of the Leaden Key." 

He shakes his head. "I keep tryin' to tell you, that ain't you."

"Does it matter?" she shoots back. "That soldier wasn't Maerwald, nor was the marauder, but they were stronger, and they held all this guilt, and he couldn't--" She stops again, throwing another rock as hard as she can. It clatters away across the ice. "Do I have any right to condemn them when I've done--well, I don't know, not yet, but I was in the Leaden Key, surely I've done something." 

He shrugs a shoulder. "So was Aloth," he reminds her. 

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What would I do without you?" 

It's a rhetorical question, and one that makes his heart lurch in his chest, but he answers it with a smirk. "Freeze to death because you're too stubborn to make camp for the night." 

She laughs, stepping closer to him. "You're probably right." 

His smirk broadens. "You know I'm right, Nineteen." 

"Is this your way of saying Aloth's spell is gonna wear off and I'll probably want to be near a fire when it does?"

"Yep." 

She sighs again, but this time it's half a laugh, and he knows he's succeeded. If he can't ease her mind, at least he can distract her. "Fine, you've made your point. Let's go, then." 

_________________________________________

She takes first watch, but he doesn't sleep. Instead, he waits. He tries to be subtle about it, but she seems too distracted to notice. It worries him. Then again, these days he spends more time worrying about her than not. 

She starts shivering maybe half an hour into her shift, and he takes that as his cue. Gathering up their thickest blanket, he crosses over to where she's sitting, as close to the fire as she can get without burning herself, and gently sets it around her shoulders. 

She flinches, hand going to her weapon as she turns, only to relax when she sees him. She gives him a grateful smile, tugging the blanket closer, but all she says is, "You should be resting." 

He smiles. "Could hear you thinking from halfway across the campsite." He sits down on the log beside her, looking at her sideways. "Still thinkin' 'bout Maerwald?" 

She inclines her head. "Sort of."

"Wanna talk about it?" 

She scoots closer, right up against his side, looking up at him as though asking for permission. 

"Cold?" he asks her. 

She nods. "Aloth's spell wore off I guess." 

He puts his arm around her wordlessly, pulling her closer, and she lifts the blanket to drape it around both of them. They sit like that in silence for a while before she finally speaks. 

"Can you tell the difference?" she asks. "When I'm looking at someone's soul or when I'm... seeing my past?" 

He shrugs. "Well usually when you're talking to a soul there's a person there." 

She nods, as though she hadn't thought of that, and falls silent again. 

"I was an initiate," she says after another short silence. "Thaos inducted me personally. After a while, I had a falling out with my family--they thought the Leaden Key was a cult of fanatics--correctly--and they tried to get me to leave. Thaos talked me out of it. He... I abandoned my family at his word. I get the sense I would have... I'd have done just about anything, if he asked. I hope I wouldn't... I don't know. I don't know if there's anything I wouldn't have done. But... the flashes I saw, in Cilant Lis... torture and pain and... at first, when I found out I was awakened, I thought maybe my past self had been tortured. Now... knowing what I was, the hold Thaos had on me... I'm starting to think it was the other way around." 

He just holds her closer, at a loss. Anything he can think of to say has already been said. 

"Thank you," she says quietly. 

He looks down at her, surprised. "What for?" 

She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her face into his chest. "For listening. For being here." 

They sit in silence again for a long while, and at some point her breathing evens out and her grip on the blanket slackens, and it's only then that he replies. "Always."


	3. The Giftbearers (pt. 2)

She bursts through the temple doors in a barely contained rage--he can all but see literal flames in her eyes. 

"You lied to me," she snaps at the priestess. "You lied to _everyone_."

He was expecting the justifications the woman tries to make--we gave them what they wanted, they can still let go, why does it matter what we do with their stuff--but that's not what draws his attention. 

She shifts subtly, so that Mara, distracted in her rage, doesn't see it. One of her hands disappears beneath her cloak, and he's seen enough fights to know what that means. 

As subtly as he can, he shifts closer to Mara, regretting, not for the first time, the loss of the larder door. Sure, his new shield saved a man's life, and he's grateful, but the main reason he kept that old thing for so long was because it was big enough to shield two people. Without it, he'll have to improvise. 

He sees the woman tense at something Mara says, notes the resolve on both of their faces. And then something snaps. The woman's cloak is drawn aside in a flash, revealing the pistol beneath it, and he has less than a second to act or Mara will be wounded or dead on the ground. 

He acts on instinct--the pure and simple need to protect. Covering her as best he can with the shield (leaving himself wide open to attack, he knows, but he can take it better than she can) he pulls her back and steps in front of her, quickly and deliberately placing himself between her and the pistol. The crack of a gunshot sounds even as all this is happening, and there's a flare of pain in his left side and he thinks he hears a panicked yell but maybe he's imagining things. But he's not down yet. Pulling his shield back to himself, he steps toward the priestess or Giftbearer or whatever the hell she is--the one who just tried to kill Mara in cold blood. He stumbles a little on the way, but if he's learned anything since he started getting closer to Mara it's that rage born of love is a powerful motivator. 

The woman falls to a blow from his shield and a few quick cuts of his sabre. He turns to look for the next enemy, but there were only a few of them and the others have made short work of them.   
The adrenaline slowly fading, he stumbles again, manages to lean himself against a wall, then to slide down it, the pain becoming more pronounced as time goes on. 

He blinks, and suddenly she's at his side, pulling him away from the wall and putting pressure on his wound with one hand while the other begins undoing his armor. He looks up at her with a half smile. "We have got to stop meeting like this." 

"Shut up," she says, but her smile is poorly concealed and the words carry no bite. "What the hell, huh? First the burning building, now you _literally_ stepped in front of a bullet, do you have a goddamn death wish?" 

"More like the opposite, but for you." 

She doesn't even pause her work. "And now the blood loss is getting to you. That made no goddamn sense." 

"Simple." He tries again "I don't want you to die." 

"Funny," she says in a voice that's shaking but still strong and suggests anything but humor, "how you never stopped to think how maybe I don't want _you_ to die either." 

She pushes his armor aside and starts to examine his wound, very determinedly not even glancing at his face. 

He allows himself a wry smile. "We're quite a pair, aren't we Nineteen?" 

"Why do you keep doing it?" she demands. "Putting your damn life on the line?" 

He doesn't answer. 

She grunts in frustration. "Come _on_ , if you expect me to believe you _don't_ have a death wish, you're gonna have to give me a better reason." 

It would be so easy. He could just tell her. Just say, because I'm in love with you and if I try to imagine my life without you now everything goes grayer than when I found out I was on the wrong side of the war. It would be so easy just to be selfish for once. 

But he can't. He shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. "Instinct, I guess," he says. 

He can hear the hurt in her voice when she says, a little quieter, "If you're not gonna tell me just say so." 

That hurt, knowing he's the cause of it, tears straight through his chest, right down to the core. Hurting her is the last thing he wants, but what else can he do? 

For the briefest of moments he allows himself a fantasy in which she isn't constantly in more danger than anyone he's ever met, in which he could just lean up and kiss her right now, in which they have a future.

Then, tearing himself back to reality, he shakes his head slowly. "Sorry." He hopes she understands he means it. 

She finishes bandaging the wound after checking to make sure the bullet isn't still inside him, and she warns him in a professional tone of voice that breaks his heart not to mess with it for a few days, and then she's gone. 

He'd rather take a dozen bullets than hurt her. But knowing his luck, he'll somehow manage to do both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell by now that I really love mutual pining angst. Like really a lot.


	4. The Sword

It doesn't really look like anything special. 

Nah, that's not really true. From what he can see, it's a pretty nice greatsword. And it's frozen in a block of ice, with just the hilt and a bit of the blade sticking out the top, so that's pretty unusual too. 

But clearly he's not seeing what she's seeing. She sheaths her own weapons, approaching the block of ice and looking like she's halfway into one of those trances of hers, the way she gets when she's talking to souls. 

He should be used to it by now, he supposes, but something about this is different. Something about that sword is _drawing her in_ , and that screams danger to him way more than any soul she's ever talked to, whether it was in a body, or just outside a body, or even in an object. 

So he follows. 

When she reaches for the hilt, he reaches up quickly and grabs her by the wrist, preventing her from touching it. She seems to snap out of whatever trance she was in, shaking her head slightly and looking over at him, confused. 

"Edér?" 

He shrugs a shoulder. "Got a bad feeling about that sword, is all. You see anything?"

She shrugs back. "Souls. But you probably figured that out, huh?" she adds with a grin. 

He allows himself a momentary smirk. "You run out of dead people to stare at?" 

She chuckles. "Nah, that's just not interesting enough anymore. Dead people only have one soul each. This sword? At least three or four, maybe even more than that." 

"What're you gonna do about it?" 

She frowns thoughtfully. "Now that's the question, isn't it? What am I going to do about it? Well I guess it seems logical to see if I can pull it out, talk to them a bit. It's all sort of... indistinct whisper-shouting at the moment." 

He looks sideways at her, realizing suddenly that he's still grasping her wrist. He lets go. "You sure that's a good idea?" 

"Give me a better option," she challenges teasingly. "And before you say it," she adds as he opens his mouth, "I'm not going to leave it here." 

"But--" He's only momentarily distracted, but it's enough. She darts away from him, to the other side of the ice block, and bracing her feet against it, grasps the sword and heaves with all her might. 

It comes free more easily than he might have expected, and there's a moment of quiet in which she breathes heavily and starts to examine the weapon. 

"Hey, there's some wri--" Her observation is cut short by a scream as she drops suddenly to the icy ground, writhing in apparent agony and yelling like there's no tomorrow. She doesn't drop the sword, though--it stays clasped in her hand, like the muscles of her fingers have frozen in that position. 

He experiences a solid three seconds of mind-numbing terror before he manages to act, and by then Aloth is joining him, both men dropping to their knees at her side. 

"What happened?" Aloth asks. 

"She picked up that sword," Edér explains, his voice a little shaky. "Think she said there were souls bound to it." 

Aloth nods and closes his eyes, setting a hand on her face--the tips of his first three fingers rest on her forehead, while his thumb and pinky are on either cheekbone. 

Her screaming has subsided to pained gasping, but her eyes are still closed, her body still twitching and writhing like she's being repeatedly hit with a lightning spell. 

Because he's completely helpless to do anything else, because he's panicking and he wishes he'd done it instead, because he hates feeling so damn *useless*, he takes her free hand in his, clasping it tightly, and leans down to talk to her, like he always does when she's having one of her Watcher nightmares. 

Aloth's eyes are still closed, and he's not moving except to mutter indistinctly. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," he says suddenly, still not opening his eyes. Edér, momentarily startled, stops talking to look at him before he processes what was said. Then he nods, though he's sure Aloth can't see him, and he leans back down to talk to Mara. 

Before too long, she's completely still--unnaturally still. But a few moments after she falls silent, Aloth opens his eyes with a faint smile on his face, and a moment after that she gasps in a breath as her eyes open. 

"Easy there," Edér says, helping her sit up slowly. "How're you feeling?" 

She blinks, frowns. "Kinda shitty," she says. "What happened?" 

"That blade is cursed," Aloth says matter-of-factly. 

She groans. "Now I find that out." 

He shrugs a shoulder. "You could've asked." 

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbles. "So what's the curse?" 

"It appears to be bound to your soul--more so even than usual soulbound weapons. You should be able to let go of it, at least, but should you attempt to use another weapon, or should the sword be separated from you for some reason, you will likely endure a similar episode to what we just witnessed." 

She looks it over. "Least it's a good sword. Any way to break this curse?" 

"I suggest examining the verses on the blade," Aloth says. "They may provide some insight." He gets to his feet, gives her another once-over, and heads back to the others. 

Edér watches him go before turning back to Mara. "You all right? You sounded..." He trails off. 

She looks up at him, her eyes full of concern. "Was it really that bad?" 

He nods. "You pulled out that sword and for a second everything was fine, and then you're on the ground, just... screaming. Stuff of nightmares."

"Sorry," she mutters sheepishly, looking away. 

"Nothing to be sorry about, Nineteen, just... be careful, all right? Hate to lose you, 'specially to some dumb old sword." 

"Careful," she stage whispers. "I think it can hear you." 

He laughs, and she laughs with him. She's going to be okay. She looks tired, but beyond that, whatever she just endured doesn't seem to have any lasting effect. 

Now they just have to see about breaking that curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write the bits where they actually go and break the curse; might do it later and add it in here if I feel like it, but this was the main thing I wanted to get in there. And yeah I messed around with the curse a little bit. Just for funsies.


	5. Ondra's Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the angstiest near death experience in the whole damn game. I love it so much.

"You mean for me to die here." 

She's not even surprised, really. The gods have never been good to her, and the more she learns of her past the more she's beginning to understand why. Technically, the Inquisitor wasn't her... but also technically she was. Didn't seem like it mattered to the gods. Then again from the sound of it, she'd done all those things in their service. She's not sure if that makes it better or worse. 

She never thought about Ondra, much. Woedica was the center of her focus, more often than not. Eothas, too, because of everything he caused. Magran, because of Durance. A bit of Hylea, both because of Pallegina and because with Eothas dead, Hylea's the only one left who gives her hope. 

Ondra rarely even crossed her mind. But here she is, in the middle of Ondra's mess, about to die to stop her. 

Funny. She always thought she'd die stopping Thaos. Guess her time is coming sooner than you think. 

Maneha looks... oddly at peace, and it's disconcerting. Mara's never been one to question other people's beliefs (that is one can of worms she's not going anywhere near) but this whole forgetting thing... rubs her the wrong way. Even now, knowing what the Inquisitor did, she's not sure she'd choose to forget. Those memories, her search for answers, have shaped her. They led her to Aloth, to Edér, to Caed Nua. 

They led her here. 

"Crushing's a bad way to go," Edér says, a shade of genuine fear overshadowing the joke. "Think we could hang ourselves instead?" 

Her heart breaks to look at him, to see that flicker of fear, of uncertainty, the kind of thing she only saw in him when he was looking for answers about his brother. Her resolve stiffens. If it's the last thing she ever accomplishes (and she's almost certain it will be) he will make it out of here alive. They all will. 

Fighting down a wave of fresh panic at the thought of dying alone, crushed by the tide and forgotten, she turns back to Ondra briefly, and the party moves on. 

_________________________________

Must be the whole 'we're gonna die soon' thing, making her reckless. She goes at those Eyeless like she's some kind of super warrior, instead of a cipher who's too breakable for her own good. He does his best to shield her, as he always does, but there's only so much you can do. 

No lie, the thought of being crushed to death in the middle of a lake at the whim of some god terrifies him. But at least when he goes, he'll be protecting her. Maybe if he does a good enough job, she'll even survive. 

Course, she won't even make it that long if she doesn't stop being reckless. He turned his back for three seconds and she was diving after whatever she saw in that ice hole. And she's not one to give up, so all he can do is wait and hope. 

She makes it back to the surface, but she's struggling, and when he leaps forward to pull her up it's clear why. Two laugfaeth are clinging to one of her legs, which is already torn and bloody, and probably sprained. He kicks them free, pulling her away from them and handing her off to Pallegina so the paladin can see to her wounds. 

__________________________________

"Hey, at least I got to kill a kraken before I die." 

No one laughs, but she's not really expecting them to. The time for jokes has passed. She just... hasn't quite gotten there. 

Casting one last look at the dust that used to be the kraken before she disintegrated it, she nods, turning toward the crystal and hefting Abydon's hammer. 

It's time. 

"You should go," she says abruptly. "Get to a safe distance before this thing comes crashing down around us, huh?" 

There's a chorus of protest. Maneha thinks she should stay instead, says maybe it's what Ondra intended for her. 

Mara doesn't give a fuck about what Ondra wants. Maneha still has a place in this damn world and she'll be damned if she condemns her to losing it at the whim of some bitch of a goddess.

The Devil is stoic as ever, but a faint surface skim reveals a surprising undertone of regret, and even respect. They exchange nods. They have nothing more to say. 

Pallegina, really, is the only one who understands. She knows better than to try to talk her out of it. They wish each other good fortune, and Mara wishes her a prosperous future, and they're ready. 

She turns to Aloth with somewhat more difficulty. Her first friendly face in a town of mistrusting assholes who probably would have hanged her at the first opportunity. Her companion, the only one who really understands how shitty it can be to be Awakened. 

"I...understand if you think you must do this," he says quietly. "I wish I could change your mind." 

She shakes her head with a sad smile. "Thank you, Aloth. For everything. You've been... you've been a good friend." 

He smiles. "As have you. I cannot begin to tell you what your friendship has meant to me, Mara. May you fare better in your next life." 

She hugs him. He seems surprised for a moment, floundering before finally returning the gesture. And with half a glance at Edér, he moves to stand with Maneha, at a respectful distance from the impending conversation. 

Edér looks at her, and it's impossible to tell whether this look breaks her heart more than the hopelessness that entered his eyes when he couldn't find the truth about his brother. And once again, she's causing it. 

For a time, they're quiet. They both know what they have to say. But it still needs to be said. 

Finally he reaches out his hand, clasping one of hers, eyes downcast, focusing on the rings that link them. "Don't do this," he says softly. 

"I have to," she replies. She's been preparing for this moment. She needs to convince him to leave her behind. And that may be the hardest thing she's ever done, on a number of levels. 

He meets her eyes again, expression desperate, voice still quiet. "Let me. The others, they need you. Heck, maybe I take another turn through the Wheel I finally get some answers." 

"Don't say that!" Her voice breaks a little, but she meets his eyes with all the intensity and determination she can muster. "I can't walk out of here knowing someone else is dying for me. I can't. Especially you, I--" She drops her gaze. It would be cruel to tell him now, much as she wants to. "Please," she says instead. "Maybe this way I'll finally get some peace." 

"What about Thaos?" He asks, desperation leaking into the question. 

"You don't need a Watcher to stop him. If the gods want it badly enough, you'll be able to do whatever you need to. And... I think Aloth plans to go after him anyway. He'll need you." 

"What about Sagani? How'll she find Persoq without you?" 

She's still not looking at him. "Find Adaryc. Tell him it's a favor to me. A last request." 

"What about Hiravias, then? Or--"

She shakes her head. "They don't need me, Edér. I only help people find what they already have in them." 

"What about me?" His voice actually does break, and she can feel his gaze on her, and she can almost imagine the tears in his eyes, but she can't look. If she looks at him, she'll break. 

She needs to, though. She needs to know she can look him in the eye and face her own death, at least knowing he'll be all right. "You don't need me, Edér," she says quietly, finally looking up to brush a hand across his cheek. 

His eyes are raw with emotion, trying to tell her a thousand things, begging her not to do this, and for a moment it's almost enough that she gives in. But she remembers the alternative. She knows that if she doesn't stay, he will, and knowing that is all she needs to strengthen her resolve. 

"Please," she says again. 

He closes his eyes, in apparent anguish. Finally he opens them again, and the look in them is dull and resigned, and her heart breaks once more at the reminder of what he's already lost. 

"Nothing I say will convince you, will it?" It's less of a question than an affirmation. He already knows what she'll say. They both do. 

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry." 

He leans down, and for a wild moment she thinks maybe he'll kiss her, but he touches his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, breathing her in one last time. "I'll feel it, you know," he says, brushing his thumb over her ring. "When you die. Just... if there's any way... get out of there. Please. If anyone can pull it off, it's you." 

And she breaks all over again, because of course he still has faith in her, and it hurts to even think about, but she can't allow herself to hope. Or him. 

"Goodbye, Edér," she says quietly. And it takes all her willpower not to add, _I love you._


	6. The Eyeless

They’re safe. After Aloth’s timely interventions--first to distract the Eyeless, second to get them across the breaking ice--they’ve reached solid ground and they aren’t under attack. With the adrenaline wearing off, he drops to his knees in the snow, finally fully absorbing what’s just happened. 

She's dead. 

That moon is sinking into the lake and she's going down with it and there's not a damn thing he can do. 

Maybe she's still alive, down there, being crushed to death by collapsing rubble and the flood of Ondra's waters. Maybe she's suffering the fate to which she condemned the Low Tide priests, with tears on her cheeks and a quaver in her voice. 

Maybe somehow she'll escape. 

Eothas is dead. He knows that, he's known that. But he can't help praying, to Eothas or whatever cosmic being is pulling the strings, that she'll pull off another miracle and make it out alive. Because she can't be dead. She can't be gone. She's too strong, too powerful, too _good_ and damn it he wants to punch something because there's this emptiness welling up within him, a whirlpool draining away a part of him where she used to be and it _hurts_ , gods it hurts and he's so helpless and maybe if he can punch something he'll feel something other than this damn _emptiness_.  
His feelings are mirrored in Aloth's face as they both watch (helpless, powerless, useless) the moon sink below the surface, the last traces of their friend vanishing into nothingness. They share a look. An understanding passes between them. They, who've been with her since the beginning, for whom she's given so much. And she was all they had. 

Aloth nods, and Edér nods back, and Aloth clasps his shoulder and says simply, "She will be remembered." He bows his head and turns, putting some distance between them so they can mourn her in their own ways.

Edér... can't. The only thing left within him that isn't this gaping emptiness where she used to be is that tiny, fading spark of futile hope. That somehow she's okay. That she's coming back. That he won't be alone, even more alone than before because he's lost his brother all over again and now he's lost her too and it's too much--

Bubbles break the surface of the freezing water. It's probably nothing, he knows, just the kraken or one of those fish things or the final flooding of the moon but that dangerous spark of hope is growing and he can't help it. He knows deep down it's not her and it'll break his heart all over again but damn it this is the woman he _loves_ and he can't-- 

Her head breaks the surface. 

Feeling floods back into him, relief and warmth and joy and love and the emptiness washes away, filling him instead with _her_. She's drenched, and shivering, standing there in the shallows like she's in shock, the hammer of Abydon trailing behind her, and he can't wait, he needs to know she's real, so he goes. He steps forward into the water and he's pretty sure he won't be warm again for a week but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because she's _alive_ and she survived after all and she didn't leave him and now she's blinking up at him, half-dazed, half-drowned, her leg still mangled from the lagufaeth attack. He stops, right as he reaches her, reaching out a hand and grasping her shoulder, half afraid that it's some trick of his mind or a cruel god. But she's _solid_ , she's _real_ , and gods, he hasn't felt anything like this in... he's not sure if he ever has. 

Overwhelmed, tears streaming down his face, he crushes her to him, and after a little squeak of surprise she returns the embrace, and all he wants is to just keep her beside him and never let go again. 

"Thought I lost you," he murmurs into her hair. 

She's still shaking, and at first he thinks it's from the cold, but it's different, her body is heaving, almost like she's--

She's crying. Sobbing into his chest, pulling him as close as she can physically manage, as though she's afraid he'll disappear if she lets go. And that just breaks his heart all over again, seeing her like this. He can't think of anything to say. Nothing he can think of will do justice to what she's gone through. So he just holds her tighter, as tightly as he can, one hand on her back, the other in her hair, not even trying to disguise his tears. "You're okay," he says, to himself as much as her. "You're alive. It's over. You're safe." 

He feels her nod, feels her sobs subsiding as time passes. 

"I was... so afraid," she whispers, so quietly he almost doesn't hear, and that brings fresh tears to his eyes because she shouldn't have had to face it alone. "Water... surrounding me, swallowing me, and I was alone, but I had to, I couldn't walk out of there knowing someone else was dying for me, I couldn't, and it would've been you because you're just like that and I can't--" Her voice breaks on another sob, and her next words are an octave higher than they should be, "I can't lose you." 

And damn it if that doesn't bring back the tears he's been fighting so hard. If she wasn't already drenched from her close brush with Ondra's mercy her hair would probably be soaked through with his tears by now. 

"You did a brave thing," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "And I... I'm glad you're... okay. Don't know what I would've done, really. If you'd..." 

She shivers then, violently, and he realizes they're still standing in the shallows of a frozen lake. "C'mon," he says, pulling away but keeping an arm around her. "Let's get you warmed up. Won't do much good against Thaos if you end up dying of cold, will you?" 

She gives a watery chuckle, stepping out of the water with him, and they make their way to the camp the others have made. 

He keeps his arm around her the whole way.


	7. The Eyeless (Alternate Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Edér took the hit instead

He knows her well enough to know where this is going. One of them's gonna have to stay down here, go down with the Eyeless. Well, might be more than one, but if there's a chance for the others to escape, no point in more people dying. 

No point in her dying, either. 

The offer to hang on to Abydon's hammer is innocent enough. It's too big for her to use effectively anyway, and maybe he normally uses a shield, but the thing does a hell of a lot more against the Eyeless. It's also pretty good a knocking kraken tentacles out of the way, turns out. 

The sea monster (which she--with bitter sarcasm--thanks Ondra for warning them about) falls, and just beyond it--

A huge, glowing white crystal. 

His grip on the hammer tightens. 

She turns back to them. "I won't ask any of you to die for me," she says, holding out her hand to Edér. 

He shakes his head with a sad smile. "You don't have to ask." 

She goes pale. "Edér. Give me the hammer." She's trying to disguise the tremor in her voice, but he's known her long enough to hear it. It was there in her voice when she thought he'd leave, after Cliaban Rilag. 

Funny, how she can face down an adra dragon without blinking an eye, but when faced with the prospect of someone leaving--he refuses to think it's just him--she loses her composure. 

But he won't stand by while she sacrifices herself. The world needs her. And she doesn't need him, anyway. 

He turns to Aloth. Knows his friend will do what needs to be done. "Make sure she leaves." 

Aloth's face is set, though his eyes regard Edér with a mixture of fondness and regret. He nods. 

Squaring his shoulders, he grips the hammer tighter and walks toward the crystal, not looking at her. 

He doesn't turn, even when she yells after him and her voice is more desperate than anything he's ever heard. She's just screaming his name, over and over, and his heart breaks, but he has to do this.   
He has to do this. 

It sounds like she's crying. Any other time, he'd be at her side in an instant, hoping to ease her pain, or protect her from whatever's hurting her. 

This time it's him. 

But he has to do this. 

He hears Aloth's voice: "I'm sorry," he says, and then he murmurs a spell, and her cries stop. "Come on!" the wizard cries, and Edér knows they'll be all right. Aloth's got them. 

He swings the hammer methodically, pounding against the crystal with a rhythm like the tolling of the bell back in Gilded Vale. Who knew he'd get a death knell more impressive than anything the Raedrics ever got. It's satisfying, in a way. Even dying, he can show them up. 

The moon is collapsing around him, and finally he lets himself think of her. If he's dying, might as well be honest with himself, anyway. 

He remembers her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes when they met, the earnestness in her eyes when she told him she wanted to help him. He remembers the fierce, shaking rage in her voice when she confronted the looters trying to kill him. He remembers her undisguised fear at the thought of him leaving. 

He remembers the way she clung to him as he reminded them both that he wasn't leaving her side. Guess he broke that promise. He's sorry. Really, he is. Hurting her is the last thing he ever wants to do, but... better him than her. 

Death by crushing isn't the way he wanted to go. But he isn't even thinking about that now. He remembers the shining light in her exhausted eyes as the adra dragon fell, the pure delight as they found her hoard of treasure. 

Maybe dying isn't so bad, long as he's thinking about her when he goes. 

He loses track of time, his body continuing to strike the crystal more out of habit than anything, his mind lost in thoughts of her. Of how much he loves her. 

At some point, he goes underwater. Drowning, then, not crushing. Well, good then. He knows more than anyone how scared she is of drowning. He's the one who pulled her out of that stream under Cliaban Rilag, after all. 

There's lagufaeth around him, but he's too weak to lash out. Maybe it'll be death by fish, then. 

They're not attacking, though. There's a gleam in their eyes, like he's never seen before. Intelligent, almost. And they're guiding him to the surface. 

No death at all, then? He's okay with that. 

They break through the ice, guiding him up into the shallows, and then they're gone as soon as they appeared. He pushes himself out of the water, shivering on his hands and knees on top of a block of ice, just breathing, letting his head hang down. 

Then, not far away, there's a voice. "Edér?" 

He snaps his head up. Mara is kneeling on the ice, several paces away, facing toward the sinking moon, looking at him like she's just seen a ghost. Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet and walks toward him carefully, like she's afraid he'll vanish if she approaches too quickly. "Thought it'd take longer," she says. She kneels beside him but doesn't touch him. "So what is it, then? The gods? They want something from me? Or am I just hallucinating because I miss you already?" She turns her head away briefly and he's startled to realize she's blinking back tears. 

He gets into a kneeling position and reaches for her. "I'm real, Mara," he says quietly. 

She laughs, a sad, broken thing that rips out his heart all over again. "Can't be him," she says. "He never calls me that."

He takes her face in his hands. "First words I ever said to you were seventeen-and-a-half," he says quietly. 

She blinks up at him, but some of the tears escape anyway, flowing freely down her face. 

"First time I hugged you was the first time we traveled to Stalwart," he continues. "Easy to pretend it was 'cause of the cold, but..." He trails off before starting again. "At that ruin, thought I might finally get some answers. Instead... well, I realized I had you. And just now? I knew if I didn't stay, you would. And I'm not about to lose you. Not when I finally found someone I'd live or die for." He smiles. "Turns out, I get to live for you a little longer." 

"Edér..." Her voice is barely a breath, but it breaks, and then she's in his arms, not even trying to suppress her sobs. "You died," she cries. "I didn't know what I'd do without you, and you died for me, and I--" 

If he's shedding a few tears of his own, he can chalk it up to the wind or something. 

"I love you," she says. 

He goes still, his brain trying to process what she's said, standing up against everything he assumed. In the end, he just holds her closer and whispers, "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy the idiots finally admitted it! Good thing this is the AU version right? :D


	8. After It All

He doesn't leave her side. 

They travel back to Stalwart, to spread the news that it's safe now; she and Adaryc part on... if not friendly, then vaguely amiable terms. He and the ogre matron both pledge their forces in support of her against the army being built by Lord Gathbin. 

She stays for a few days, to ensure that Abydon's return won't unravel the balance of the universe or anything, and to ensure that Adaryc and the Iron Flail are no longer a threat to Stalwart. And through it all, he doesn't leave her side. 

Few words have passed between them since she emerged from the frozen lake, from what should have been her death. They don't need them, really. Their exchange in the shallows, the way they held each other and cried with relief, says it all for them. 

And the way he refuses to leave her side says more still. 

They leave Stalwart a few days after her brush with death, and she thanks the gods for it. At least now it's normal for him to be at her side constantly. At least now she won't have to endure *quite* as much of Hiravias winking suggestively at her whenever Edér's back is turned. 

He takes first watch when they camp, as usual. This time, though, she joins him, just inside the mouth of the cave. Sheltered enough from the snow, but still mostly out of earshot of the others. And if Sagani hears them, at least she'll be tactful enough not to say anything. 

She sits close to him, so that they're not touching, but she can feel the heat radiating from his body. He doesn't react, other than a half glance in her direction and a little smile to acknowledge her. 

She speaks first. "Are you all right?" 

He huffs a mockery of laughter. "'Course you're asking me that. You almost die, and you're worried about me." 

"You've been quiet, these past few days," she says. 

"Yeah, well. Lot to think about." 

He's deflecting; even a halfwit could probably tell that. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. Maybe he's afraid to. But he's her friend, and she loves him, and she's not just going to leave him to suffer in silence if there's something she can do to help. 

So she moves closer, so their shoulders are touching, and rests her hand between his shoulder blades. "Edér, please. I'm all right. But you're not. Let me help you." 

He looks at her then, sideways, like he's sizing her up, testing to see if she'll be as good as her word. Finally he relents, exhaling another sad laugh. "Almost lost you," he says quietly. "You're the first good thing's come into my life since the war, and I turned my back and left you to die." 

She pulls him closer, pressing herself against his side and leaning her head into his shoulder. "You didn't abandon me, Edér," she says. "If... if you'd stayed, I--knowing someone else was dying for me, needlessly..." She lets out a gentle sigh. "I haven't had a friend in years," she admits. "And you... mean more to me than I ever would have expected. Don't blame yourself for my decision." 

His arm wraps around her, and her head comes to rest right where his shoulder meets his chest as he pulls her closer still. His head leans against hers, and for a moment they gaze out of the cave mouth in silence. Then, "Don't ask me to do that again. Leave you, I mean." His voice is raw, his every emotion laid bare, and for a moment she's glad she can't see his eyes. She's afraid of what she might find there. "I'd do most anything for you," he murmurs. "But I don't think I can bear to do that again." 

She closes her eyes in silent agony. _I can't promise that,_ she won't say. Can't say. She can't bear to be the cause of his pain. 

And Edér, gods bless him, understands that. He doesn't ask her to promise. He doesn't speak. Just holds her close, and when Sagani comes to take her watch, he kisses the top of her head before they break apart. 

"Stay with me," she says, or begs, she's not really sure. But he does, without a word, holding her close throughout the night. 

It's a blessing that when they wake in the morning, everyone can pretend it was because of the cold.


End file.
